


Stuffed

by Queensme



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Gen, I don't go too into detail but I just want to be careful, Mild Gore, charles is a nice name, dave is an asshole, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25158691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queensme/pseuds/Queensme
Summary: That fateful fourth night when Mike hears the dreaded phone call. He checks in the back like he was asked.
Relationships: Phone Guy/Mike Schmidt (Five Nights at Freddy's)
Kudos: 46
Collections: Fanfics I’d eat again at 3 am and already have





	Stuffed

**Author's Note:**

> this is extremely au and its just for me wanting my pg/mike angst that i crave for some goddamn reason. basically, mike is filling in for charles on the 4th night because charles recorded the phone call the previous night. mike and michael afton are different people, dave and william are different, charles is phone guy, rodrick is mute and my favorite fnaf oc, and henry has 3 kids, mike schmidt being one of them and then charlie and sammy. my au is a mess but i think it checks out (not with cannon)
> 
> no longer anonymous

That fourth night was a literal hell for Mike.

Listening to Charles grow increasingly desperate as the call went on was torture enough, let alone the deep scream that took over his voice when the chimes stopped. The small "Oh no" that Charles had whispered, as if he was too terrified to scream, was too much for Mike, and he'd promptly shoved the phone back onto the receiver and didn't listen further. A few minutes later he replayed the message, making it to the scream before he started crying, because of all people who deserved to be terrified out of their minds due to some child entertainer turned murderer, it wasn't an innocent man, and especially not Charles. If anyone, it was either that new janitor guy or Dave; however, Mike was reserving that kill for himself.

But here he was, just sitting in the office instead of checking in the backroom like he'd been asked, wallowing in pity for his fellow nightguard. Just doing nothing but hoping that the man would hold out like he said he would, praying that 6am would come faster than normal so that he could check.

Chica was at his window, so he shut the door. Foxy was almost out of pirates cove, Bonnie was standing in the backroom (Charles was there, he had to be), and Freddy was staying on stage, seeming to grin evilly at the camera. The puppet wasn't really doing anything, and it would be a bit before the music box wound down enough to alarm him. Just follow the routine, make time pass faster by not thinking, just doing, and hoping that Charles would still be alive by the time he got there.

Six actually came faster than anticipated, and as soon as the bell rang he was running down the hall at a speed that would shame Foxy, not caring if the Puppet was rising out of the box to get ready for the ticket exchanges, or Freddy had turned to stare with those black eyes of his. He didn't care when he slipped past Bonnie into the backstage and began rummaging around for the Freddy suit that Charles had to have been in.

It seemed to take hours, when Mike knew that it really was only a few minutes, before he found that forsaken suit, a golden bear suit with blood sliding out of almost every orface. The jaw hung open, revealing a bloodied human jaw, crimson dripping from the black goatee that Mike knew so well. Wires and pins seemed to come from every direction, sticking in and out of the suit, digging into flesh and stealing life away, or missing entirely and simply cutting the air. Charles had always been too small around the middle, and now Mike was rather thankful for that, seeing as otherwise there would be far more pins in his stomach than would be healthy.

No pins in his abdomen would be best, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Mike carefully knelt down to him, hand barely brushing the helmet before he heard a soft whimper. He pulled his flashlight off his belt and shown it into the eyes of the suit, recognizing two shut human eyes. Both were bleeding, but Charles' right was the one that opened and appeared undamaged.

"Chuck, man, I need you to stay with me," Mike said, not exactly sure if the other man was able to hear him. "You got that, buddy? Blink once for no, twice for yes." Charles blinked twice, showing that he was registering. "Good. I'm gonna move your arm, alright?"

He carefully grasped his left arm, which was likely badly mangled, and tugged it away from its spot on the bear's stomach. More blood spilled onto the floor, and at that point Mike wasn't worried about the injuries as much as blood loss. The shock must've worn off, seeing as it had probably been a day since he made the phone call, because Charles near screamed at the movement. If it weren't for the fact that vomiting would only hurt Charles more Mike's lunch would've already been on the floor or in one of those Freddy heads. Served the bear right, to have a headful of puke.

"P...ple...a…"

Mike shook his head at Charles, nearly crying at how desperate he sounded. He'd met the man over the phone, then in person, and now he wanted nothing more than to hear the man talk with his usual tone of voice, not the pained whispers that were leaving him. "Don't waste breath on talking. Just…I'll be back, I need to call an ambulance. Alright?"

Mike saw the two blinks and stood immediately, rushing from the room. Some of the morning shift had begun to come inside, particularly the small team of janitors, and were already filing about the place. Some of them seemed to notice that Mike was there, but most of them didn't pay him a second glance, knowing that he normally stayed a little bit after his shift because he didn't want to deal with the animatronics going back to the stage. That was not the case, not today.

He slammed the manager's office door open, rushing inside and grabbing the landline. The phone in the office was for recordings only, as Charles had brought it in to train the employees (that sure worked out, didn't it) and nothing else, so the actual landline was the only one that worked well enough to call the ambulance. Not that he cared, he just needed to get back to Charles before he passed out or worse.

The call went by quickly, Mike barely even knowing what he was saying to the operator, only getting it across that he needed an ambulance ASAP. It wasn't long before he rushed back to the backroom, not even remembering if he'd properly hung up. This time one of the janitors, Rodrick, followed him, barely keeping up the pace as he nearly slipped on the blood that was covering the floor. The suit was still there, Charles was still there, Dave had come in at some point and was now inspecting the suit as if there wasn't a man trapped inside of it. In fact, Dave was smiling, grinning almost mockingly at the suit, holding a flashlight into the eyeholes where Charles' bloodied eye was peering out.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Mike growled, rushing over and shoving Dave out of the way. A few more of those pins had popped, thankfully none of them fully reaching Charles' body, likely because of the man, and Mike looked for some sort of switch to open the suit plates. Anything to at least make it easier for Charles to breathe, or for him to see what he actually was doing. "Why aren't you helping?" he nearly screamed, and Rodrick jumped forward to assist in finding that switch.

Dave, however, just had that insane grin on his face that spoke of trouble. Mike wanted to stuff the man in a suit himself, but then he would be accused of doing it to Charles as well. He kept searching, before he shined the light in Charles' eye again. "Hey, hey. Focus. Don't pass out on me, alright Chuck? Help is coming."

"It won't arrive soon enough, Michael," Dave said. Mike whipped around, bumping the suit by accident and making Charles yelp. His eyes met with Dave's, completely soulless and insane, before that image went away and Dave was back to being Dave. "You need pull Mr. Andoleese out before you can even think about medical attention, something that will take the paramedic fools far too long to do."

"How?" Mike asked. "How do we get him out, then?"

Dave's grin only grew wider, and for a moment Mike saw his father's demonic grin, that one he'd had when he came up with new and horrific ideas for animatronic nightmares. "You can't." The grin turned into insane laughter, only growing in volume when Mike stood and left Rodrick to keep looking, approaching the guard with only murder in mind. "You can't!"

Mike punched Dave, who retaliated with a kick to his side, still laughing uncontrollably. A punch to his jaw and the laughter stopped, Dave flexing it before it cracked twice and his grin returned. "Crank, on the back. You won't find one, though, and it isn't worth it. Letting him die will be better."

Mike hit him again, Dave groaning in pain this time. "Where? Where's the crank?"

"Surviving being stuffed is bad enough, but being springlocked? It's far worse, you never fully recover from that one—"

Mike slapped Dave. "Where is the crank?"

Dave's smile completely disappeared, replaced by that look of knowing that his father and William had whenever they looked at each other, as if they could read each other's minds. "Its in that suit—" he motioned his head over to the golden rabbit "—one of the hands."

Mike nodded and rushed over, taking the arms off and reaching into them. There was nothing in the right, so it had to have been the left, unless Dave was lying and there was no crank, which was also a possibility. He stuck his arm inside, realizing that the suit's arm was horrifyingly long in the process and was made for someone much larger than him, before feeling around, not at all paying attention to what he'd hit. His hand grasped a particularly decent sized piece of metal that was lodged inside, and gave it a tug, before he heard a few clicks and grew increasingly worried. Rodrick looked as if he wanted to come over, but Mike shook his head at the mute man in exchange for focusing on the crank. That had to be it, and if it wasn't then he was definitely going to stuff Dave into a suit by himself.

He pulled again, and it came loose, as did the pins, and before he knew his arm was being brutally impaled by dozens of sharp objects. He let out a scream, trying to pull his arm back but failing, just forced to sit and endure it. Mike heard his bones crunch inside the monstrosity, particularly his hand, and Rodrick was at his side in an instant, not with Charles where he was needed. In turn, Mike glared at him, feeling his arm being raised then pulled on harshly.

Surprisingly, the suit piece came off without much of a problem, just his bicep was torn to shreds, as was his hand. He still had the crank, however, and that was what mattered most. "You heard him," Mike said, passing it to Rodrick. "Crank the back spot. We need to get him out of there." the mute man nodded, rushing back to Charles and carefully maneuvering him forward so that he could use the crank.

It was the sound of metal screeching, and other people entering the room, that brought Mike's attention back to Charles. The suit slipped open, just enough for him to see all the damage that had been done to his savior's body. It was gruesome, worse than his torn to shreds arm, and for a moment he thought about what Dave had told him about surviving a springlocking, because no doubt Charles would be ruined by this. Pins were still trapped inside of his abdomen, having detached from the main suit, and from what he could see the least injured part of him was his face, which was still possibly ruined beyond repair. No wonder Fazbear Entertainment tried to cover this stuff up. If the others knew about this kind of danger nobody would work here.

Some of the other janitors began helping Rodrick crank the suit open, while others carefully removed the limbs from Charles. Thank God for the morning shift. If it'd just been Mike then he doubted that he would've been able to help Charles, as his arm was too badly injured to do anything more than grasp loosely at things. He vaguely heard sirens in the distance, saw the doors opening and gurneys being wheeled in.

Mike blinked, and Charles was on the gurney now, being wheeled out of the room, and paramedics were surrounding him now, as if he was the one who was dying and not the Phone Guy. Another blink and he was in an ambulance, then another and another, until he finally passed out for real.


End file.
